


A Little Too Much

by JFoster



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Feelings, Nobody is Dead, Protective Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 08:22:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11100678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JFoster/pseuds/JFoster
Summary: Reader has never been one to talk about her pain with others, always opting to handle everything on her own. What happens when everything becomes too much to handle alone?





	A Little Too Much

**Author's Note:**

> Severe angst, mentions of self-harm (nothing explicit), brief mentions of torture at the hands of HYDRA (in passing, nothing too explicit), talks of depression, fluff, language. Please do not read this if you could possibly be squicked or triggered by any of the above. I’m choosing not to tag anyone in this because this story is incredibly personal and I needed to write in order to help me work through some things I’m dealing with. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for reading.

**Inspiration** : “A Little Too Much” ~ Shawn Mendes

“ _She would always tell herself she could do this,_  
She would use no help it would be just fine,  
But when it got hard she would lose her focus,  
So take my hand and we’ll be alright,

 _And she knew that she would be okay,  
So she didn’t let it get in her way…_”

“I’ve had worse,” you always said, “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Steve was never sure if he should be proud or worried that you never revealed the true extent of your injuries after a mission. You were quiet, reserved. He’d never even heard you complain about anything. You were a damn fine agent, arguably one of the best he’d ever had the luxury of training with, but no one knew much about you beyond what was available in your file. To everyone else, you were just like their beloved Cap: A hero. Heroes never broke.

You were a master at keeping a titanium grip on your emotions. You were forced to learn at an early age that people rarely cared about how you were truly feeling, just how you made them feel. Gaining the ability to sense emotions and manipulate them after your Terrigenesis only served to further your distrust of other’s motives.  Your circle of trust was all but nonexistent. Beyond Clint, you had no one. Despite how often you were there for everyone else, how often you served as a ‘therapist’ for everyone else, you couldn’t remember the last time anyone was truly there for you. Was anyone ever truly there for you? Was anyone ever truly there for anyone?

So, you learned how to create your mask of emotional stability. You learned how to smile even when you were screaming in agony. You learned how to laugh despite the death you carried in your soul. You learned how to seem to care despite the hollowness of your heart. You learned how to be what everyone expected of you despite the cost to you. It was the only way you knew how to survive.

Even when you’d been taken by HYDRA, nothing they concocted could ever match the misery you’d spent your whole life living with. Even when they shattered every bone in your legs, you never screamed. Even after three impossibly long weeks suffering at the cruel hands of your physical tormentors, you never even shed a tear. It’s impossible to break what had already been shattered.  

Steve knew. Steve recognized the façade you wore because it was one he wore himself. Steve could see the anguish in your eyes despite the blinding smile on your face. Steve could hear the echoing screams of undiluted distress behind your voice every time you laughed. Steve could see you. You didn’t believe anyone would notice, but Steve could see you.

He didn’t know how he could approach you. No one, other than Clint (and that was just barely), knew you outside of your sterling reputation. No one knew the person behind the name. He longed to someone you could trust further than a partner on a mission. He longed to help you realize you weren’t as alone as your mind made you believe. He longed to give you the love you were long overdue to receive. You kept yourself guarded better than any fortress he’d ever seen. God be willing, he hoped one day you’d choose to let him behind your walls and maybe, just maybe, into your heart.

When the Avengers rescued you from your captors, you were the living embodiment of numbness for months. Naturally, everyone expected you to be sullen and withdrawn after your ordeal so when you ‘bounced back’ rather quickly, Steve took notice. What should have taken you at the very least a year of recovery only took a handful of months. Sure, your innate accelerated healing gifted to you by your Kree ancestors helped you along, but even then, the rate of your recovery was unprecedented.

“Can you believe that [Y/n]? She’s a superhuman! She’s a real champion!” the agents said about you.

‘Champion’. That’s what they called you. [Y/n] [Y/l/n]. Code name: Champion. Your successes in the field, your rapid rise through the ranks, your reputation as an agent and a person meant people idolized you. They put you on a pedestal you could feel beneath the very ground you walked on. Living up to their expectations was more than stifling. You were drowning on land under the well-intended words of the people around you. But you could never let them see.

You never let them see how you fought your hardest to breathe unencumbered every time you closed your bedroom door behind you. You never let them see the silent sobs that racked your body as you succumbed against your will to the demons lashing your very soul in wicked amusement. You never let them hear the screams that ravaged your throat while you fought your monsters to just survive.  You never let them notice the scars that littered your body as you tried so fucking hard to get the malignant thoughts determined to make a permanent home in your mind to finally, finally give you some peace. You were their Champion. You were their knight who slayed the dragons and protected the kingdom. You were their light in the dark when the shadows decided it was time to play. You, like Steven Grant Rogers, were their Captain in a war you would never be free of. You could never let them see.

* * *

 

It was a strange sight to see Steve leaving small gifts at your door. Clint, the closest thing you had to a best friend, smiled to himself as he watched the large, yet surprisingly nimble man leave a small basket filled with snacks, comics and what he suspected to be a mix tape from his hideout. Could the good Captain have a crush? 

Clint waited semi anxiously for you to return from your meeting to see the gift Steve left. He too knew that you’d changed irrevocably after your rescue from HYDRA. He also knew that you’d never open up about it until you absolutely had no choice. So, he’d taken to keeping an eye on you from a far if you decided you needed someone to help you. You never knew, and he was okay with that.

To say that you were stunned to find a small gift basket lying in front of your suite door was the understatement of the century. You initially suspected Clint, but he was more prone to leaving ‘gifts’ attached to your wall via a well-placed arrow. It was his way of loving you from afar. Crouching down, you were shocked even further to see the patient scrawl on an envelope from your commanding officer: Steve Rogers. You picked the basket up gently and headed into your suite; a rare curiosity had taken root. Further inspection revealed 4 of your favorite snack bars (how did he even know?), the latest editions of a comic series you swore no one could have ever seen you read and a cassette tape entitled “When things are too much”. You could feel tears welling up in your eyes in surprise and gratitude. For the first time since you could ever remember, someone had made an effort to be kind to you without ulterior motives. It was such a foreign emotion, gratitude, that it actually took you several minutes to recognize what it was. Sliding the tape into your cassette player, you braced yourself for the praising words of your Captain. What you heard was completely unexpected.

“ _[Y/n]…uh, hi,_ ” Steve stuttered, clearing his throat, _“I’m not really sure how to go about this, actually. I would have told you in person, but you are a surprisingly hard person to pin down._ ” You chuckle softly at this; a self-defense mechanism developed in your early years.

“ _Anyway…the reason I’m making this tape is because I wanted to let you know that I want to be here for you. I want you to know that you’re not alone. I understand what you’re going through,” his voice continues. You scoff at his words. How could he understand?_

_“I know you’re probably rolling your eyes in that adorable way of yours, but it’s true. Not many people know the burden of being a hero like you and I do. Despite the kind words of grateful people, it’s hard to find a moment to breathe and just exist beyond the symbol they’ve turned you into._

_It’s hard to be yourself when literally every single person around you is expecting you, pressuring you, to be some idealized version of yourself that you have to fight every damn day just to even reach. God, even when I’m alone at home in my underwear for crying out loud, I’m still goddamn Captain America. Now don’t get me wrong; I love being your Captain. I love protecting the people I care about but sometimes I just need a damn minute to just be Steve._

_I know you know what it’s like to never be able to fail. I know you understand how impossible it is to be anything beyond your code name. Shit, I’m probably rambling by now, aren’t I? I’m sorry. I just wanted you to know that you’re not alone. I understand. And if it ever gets to be too much, I’m here. I’m here, [Y/n] and I’m not going anywhere._ ” You could hear Steve fumbling with the buttons for a moment before the tape clicked off. At some point during his speech, you’d started crying. Relief flooded through your body when you felt the sheer sincerity in his words; he understood.

You should have put it together sooner, really. If anyone understood the burden of reputation and expectations, it was Steve Rogers. Your shoulders shook as you hugged your body in a feeble attempt to keep yourself together. His words echoing in your ears unlocked the floodgates you’d once firmly locked yourself behind. Falling to your knees, mournful sobs echoed through your suite. You couldn’t keep it contained anymore.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” you called out weakly.

“Yes, miss?” the A.I. replied softly.

“Get Steve, please.”

“Right away, miss.”

Steve was in the middle of a debriefing when F.R.I.D.A.Y. alerted him to your request. He didn’t even hesitate to put Director Fury aside to rush to your side.

“We’re not done with this, Rogers,” Fury stated, half annoyed and half concerned. He too recognized the signs of depression you exhibited. You never let it get in the way of your job so he never pressed you about it. He was no stranger to mental illness.

“I understand sir, but right now, someone more important needs me.”

“Fine. Go tend to her.” Before Fury had even clicked off the conference call, Steve was racing to you. A pit nestled in his stomach as every single one of his instincts screamed that you were in trouble. He hardly even noticed the people he narrowly missed crashing into during his frantic dash through the halls. He always wanted you to let him in, but not like this. Never like this.

As per your request, the A.I. allowed Steve access to your chambers the moment the showed up outside the door. He was pained to find you in a corner, curled into yourself, sobbing profusely.

“[Y/n],” he called gently. You lifted your head to see Steve crouched in front of you, palms out in an attempt to ease you into accepting his presence.

“I can’t do it anymore, Steve,” you murmured, “I can’t hold it together by myself anymore.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” You watched warily as he slowly inched closer to your huddled figured. He kept his eyes on yours, palms outstretched. It was almost like approaching a nervous animal.

“I’m not okay. I don’t think I’ve ever been okay.”

“I know darlin’. I know.”

“What’s wrong with me, Steve?”

“Absolutely nothing,” he assured you, “you just need a little help, that’s all.” He saw you stiffen when you noticed his hands were mere centimeters from yours. Freezing in place, he waited until you relaxed and met his eyes again.

“Will you help me?” you whispered.

“Sweetheart, I’ll do anything you ask me to,” he promised.

You weren’t sure if it was the sincerity in his voice or the tenderness he was unknowingly projecting, but you could feel the walls around your heart weaken. So you reached out for his outstretched hand, grasping firmly. Steve’s reassuring and comforting grip was a life raft to your hurricane. It was time to stop braving this storm alone. 

 


End file.
